


should falter

by irnan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Gen, james potter's parents are lovely but clueless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irnan/pseuds/irnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And James stopped hexing people for the fun of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	should falter

**Author's Note:**

> Implied child abuse and bullying; mentions of Bellatrix and all the, uh, nastiness that goes along with her. Title from U2.

Seven in the evening on a Sunday night, and if Jamie has an idea that at sixteen he should not be hunched in the parlour with the OED in one hand and a Scrabble tile in the other, arguing with his parents, he's too busy being indignant to pay much attention to it.  
   
"It is too a word!"  
   
Edward is close to being in stitches. "Names not allowed - wizarding terms -"  
   
"Which are legitimate words -"  
   
"Not in the OED!"  
   
"Oh, you two - it must be my turn by now -"  
   
There's an odd clatter and a thump from the next room. Joan is the only one who notices; she twists in her seat and frowns at the connecting door. Someone must have come through the Floo, but the door stays shut and there's no other sound.  
   
"Mum?" says James.  
   
"I thought I heard..." she says. "It's nothing."  
   
He doesn't agree, on his feet and across the room. "Maybe that window blew open again. Nasty sort of night."  
   
It's a summer storm: gleeful, enthusiastic, unrestrained and yes, possibly damaging. James flings the door open, but he doesn't get very far, stopping short on the step. Joan is reminded, sharply, of the way Edward used to be during the war, of how he'd go still and pale at sharp noises after they put Delia in the ground.  
   
Then, as if a spring's been released, James uncoils and jumps forwards with a strangled shout. His socked feet slip on the marble floor, and he just about slides across it to Sirius' side, who plainly did come through the Floo, and just as plainly collapsed instantly afterwards. One hand is outflung towards Joan and Edward, palm up and fingers curling inward over the vicious cut there, blood snaking between thumb and forefinger, past his little finger, dripping to the floor.  
   
Joan has spent over half a century as a Healer, but for a moment all her instincts are frozen up and useless. Jamie's aren't, so much is plain; he's kneeling by Sirius' head, one hand supporting his neck, the other dragging at his shirt, searching for - what, stab wounds?  
   
Jamie shifts, and she sees Sirius' face, and suddenly stab wounds are no longer a ridiculous thought.  
   
"What happend? Padfoot, talk to me. I can tell you're there, c'mon, open your eyes and talk to me."  
   
Sirius licks his lips; his head turns. Jamie's voice goes stern and sharp (commanding). "Padfoot!"  
   
Grey eyes open.  
   
"Bella," he says. "Came by." He grins, ferociously triumphant. "Slugged her filthy husband in the face. Told Cissy she didn't _have_ to marry Malfoy. Know what Bella's like."  
   
"Yes, I do," James says grimly. "Your parents -"  
   
Sirius' face goes still. "Laughed."  
   
Finally, finally, Joan manages to move.  
   
*********  
James counts bruises with detached, icy determination: soothes and bandages and wipes dried blood away with a damp cloth, and as he does he counts the curses, matches them up with injuries inflicted. He knows each one. He uses each one. On other people. 

Everyone is other people to someone.

  


Sirius sleeps for nearly twenty-four hours. James doesn't leave his bedside except to use the bathroom.

  


*********

Part of him's tempted to snap his wand in two. Not even his OWL results - row of Os skipping neatly across the parchment - are important now.

*********

In a year's time it'll be him in that bed with a wrecked knee, and Sirius in the chair, and Evans with him. For now all James knows is that he's a fool and a bully and no better than Bella.

  


*********

  


(You make me sick. He makes himself sick.)

  


*********

Sirius doesn't get it, not quite, not entirely, but he follows James' lead -

Inaccurate. He puts his trust in James, whole and entire. James holds his heart and his soul and his mind and his wellbeing in the palms of his hands. James loves Sirius, the brother he never had, the peer his parents' friends never produced for him to play with, in age and in intelligence and in sheer nerve his equal. Sirius loves James back in all the same ways and reasons, but he needs him too.

They follow in each other's footsteps, back from an edge they'd not known they were standing at.

*********

Peter says, you've never hexed anyone who couldn't fight back.

Peter, cunning and cheerful and admiring as he undoubtably is, couldn't fight back. Inventive is not steadfast.

Honesty is not one of his virtues.

*********

McGonagall - no, Aunt Min, for the first time in six years he thinks of her as Aunt Min and says it to her face, too. Aunt Min says, you saw it. That's what matters. Choices, Jamie. This is yours.

Aunt Min says, I'm proud of you for this one.

*********

Remus says, James James I couldn't do this without you without you and Sirius and Wormy I'd be dead by now James, and whimpers softly when Sirius knots the bandage and wraps him (them) in the blanket.

They wait until the pain has passed before they take the tunnel home.

*********

The scar on Sirius' palm doesn't fade. One day Harry will spot it and say, where's that from, and Sirius will answer, I was a prat, and your Dad saved me. It was what he was best at, really.


End file.
